Rose’s POV
I woke up earlier than usual that morning, long before the sun had fully risen. The house was quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that presses against your chest and reminds you of everything you try not to think about. It had been a while since I last made breakfast for my family. Most days, the house help handled it while I buried myself in routines that required less feeling.
But today, I needed to do something normal… something that made me feel like a wife again. Like a mother. Like everything wasn’t slowly slipping through my fingers.
I made porridge and sautéed vegetables, my movements slow and thoughtful. The aroma filled the kitchen, but instead of comfort, it stirred memories I wasn’t ready for. Memories of mornings when Abel used to stand behind me, arms around m
